


End of summer (now I know)

by PBJellie



Category: South Park
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Cryle Week, M/M, Miscommunication, Omega Verse, Sexism, Swearing, Waffle House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 23:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Kyle and Craig have their twice a week Waffle House night breakfast.Written for Cryle Week, day 3 Confessions





	End of summer (now I know)

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, look at me, getting a second thing done for Cryle week before i retreat back into this hole for this move.

“You know I’m not a Beta, right?” Kyle squeaked out, looking down at the burnt hash browns. The Waffle House in North Park was just as backwards as the diner in South Park, so he wasn’t sure why they took the extra twenty minutes. 

Except to sneak around. 

Kyle’s presentation had been a mess. He had presented on campus, body heavy with rut as he fucked his hand in a shared dorm room for a week. He was supposed to be a Beta. A nice unassuming Beta that had no legal or moral obligation to pump out a large family. There were no tax penalties for childless Betas over age twenty-five. 

Instead, he was at a diner in another town with Craig Tucker, waiting to move to Denver to start law school. He was pissing away his time to find a mate by entertaining these not dates. Not dates with a Beta guy who seldom spoke, never mentioned himself in conversation, and worked at the grocery store. Kyle wasn’t even sure if Craig had tried to go to college.

Craig looked down at his mug, which had long been empty. Service was shitty. It was small town Colorado; Kyle wasn’t sure why he expected anything else. 

“I can’t just fuck around for as long as I want,” Kyle resumed, pushing his food around the plate. He winced as the tins of the fork scraped the plate, but continued, regardless. “Ideally, I’m married before law school is over, and then as soon as I join a practice, me and whoever I’m with are popping out a few pups so I can be left alone.” 

“Too cheap to pay the tax?” Craig smirked, just a twinge of his lips.

“Those assumptions are Anti-Semitic,” Kyle rolled his eyes as Craig went back to staring at his empty cup. “Anyway, it’s not like a soda tax, or a carbon tax, it’s fucking massive,” Kyle groaned. “Not that I think you’d give a shit about any of that. Beta privilege, and all that.” 

Craig snorted, bringing the cup to his lips. He pantomimed through drinking, hiding his face behind the rim, both hands gripping the mug. It was absurd. It was empty. Kyle had seen the dingy white bottom, streaked grey with all the spoons that had ever stirred it. 

Briefly he wondered what the natural life of a Waffle House mug was. How many times would that mug be used before it was tossed across the building in some rockus fight, shattering into the greasy linoleum? That was when they replaced their mugs, right? His had a chip, right where he put his lip. 

It was an annoyance. 

So was watching Craig pretend to drink coffee. 

“Whatever this is, it ends when I go to Denver,” Kyle said, dropping his fork. He wasn’t really hungry. He was never really hungry at three in the morning. He only came because being with Craig was better than being holed up in his childhood bedroom alone, browsing through J Date.

“I can go to night breakfast alone,” Craig finally placed the cup on the table. He opened his mouth like he had something to say, then slowly shut it. They sat silently, neither eating or drinking, as Craig intermittently opened and shut his mouth. Like he was looking for the phrase. 

“Just say what you’re going to say. Or don’t,” Kyle huffed. 

“I choose don’t,” Craig said, frowning slightly. Kyle studied his face in the fluorescent lights, seeing signs of genuine hurt etched into the lines around his eyes. If Craig Tucker was even capable of feeling anything genuine. 

“You always do this!” Kyle wrinkled his nose, trying not to yell in the restaurant. “You pretend like you’re going to say something. So I lose my whole train of thought, and then, you just decide that you don’t have to work at all to carry the conversation we’re having. You are wasting my time. You don’t even care that you’re wasting my time.” 

“Night breakfast is fun,” Craig said, tone even and measured. The same tone Shiela used when she was trying not to scold him.

“Alpha’s can’t just live with their parents and work at the shitty town grocer forever. I don’t have that luxury.” 

“Livin’ the dream,” Craig replied dryly. “It’s so hard to be an Alpha.” 

“Failure is not an option. It’s not like it is for Betas. We’re supposed to be the cream of the crop, the stewards of the nation. That’s a lot of responsibility. The burdens that come with that kind of responsibility are massive.” 

“A true curse,” Craig snickered. He wrapped his hands around the mug again.

“Stop it,” Kyle growled. “We can’t all just be goddamn losers, Craig.” There was a flash of hurt on Craig’s face, then he pulled the mug back to his mouth. Despite his better instincts, Kyle continued. “Even if I wanted to just have a part time job at the store, that wouldn’t be possible. Even if I wanted to live with my parents, I couldn’t do that. I can’t stay in South Park and support the three fucking kids I’m legally bound to have just by virtue of my damn testicles!” 

“It sucks,” Craig shrugged. He was noncommittal, because he was always noncommittal. “Sucks when things don’t turn out the way you want.” 

“Like you ever try to have things turn out any which way,” Kyle said. “You don’t give a shit about anything. It’s not like you’re ever gonna amount to anything. You’re boring old Craig Tucker and living at home with your parents and crummy job is enough for you.” 

“Yep,” Craig hummed lazily. He pulled his wallet out of his jeans, tossing a ten dollar bill on the table. He walked to the door without even saying goodbye. 

“You’re such a dick! You know!” Kyle yelled, putting his own cash on the table. “I was talking to you!” 

“At me,” Craig murmured, holding the door open for Kyle. 

“Same difference,” Kyle didn’t say thank you as he walked outside. He made a bee line for his car, ready to get home and sleep before his mother banged on his door at nine in the morning demanding he get up. 

“For an Alpha it is,” Craig said, watching as Kyle started his car. They’d rode together, since for whatever slacker reason, Craig didn’t even own a vehicle. 

“Sorry that I’m offending your delicate Beta sensibilities,” Kyle closed his door, waiting for Craig to climb in and do the same. Instead, he grit his teeth, eerie shadows cast on his face by the street lights.

“You’re not,” he said, carefully, though his expression did not change. 

“It sure seems like it does,” Kyle hissed. “What is wrong with you?” Kyle asked.

“Nothing,” Craig said, still outside of the car. Kyle rolled down the passenger side window, glaring pointedly. 

“Obviously, something is wrong with you,” Kyle said, shifting the car into reverse. “If you’re not coming, then you can just walk home.” 

“It’s past curfew,” Craig blurted out, a sudden wave a panic playing out over his features as Kyle backed out of the spot.

“You’re a fucking adult,” Kyle groaned. “Grown ups don’t have curfews. No one cares if you camp out in a Waffle House until you can call an Uber.” He stopped the car anyway, letting Craig take his usual post in the front seat. 

“I have a curfew,” Craig repeated, clicking his seat belt.

“Why? Did you get caught with drugs? Betas don’t have curfews. You’re a grown man, even if you behave like a child,” Kyle sighed. “I don’t even know if you did get caught with drugs. It’s not like you tell me anything about yourself. We’ve been doing this twice a week for a month, and I know fuck all about you.” 

“What do you know?” Craig asked as Kyle shifted back into park. He sounded almost hopeful.

“Your name is Craig Tucker. You’re a Beta. You work at the grocery store. You don’t drive. You live with you parents. You drink coffee and like breakfast food,” Kyle rattled off the list, struck once again by how little he knew. 

“That’s not even right,” Craig teased, keeping his tone flat. Kyle swore he heard an edge of disappointment, like something in those basic facts was so egregious. 

“Oh what, you don’t like breakfast food? This has all been some elaborate ploy to get me back for the Peru incident?” Kyle chuckled at the absurdity. Maybe that’s why Craig had given him his phone number when he ran to the store to buy that pound of ground beef that his mother just had to have. Just so he could get back at Kyle. Weevil his way under his skin to agitate him. 

“I like breakfast food,” Craig shrugged. “It’s not important.” 

“I listed less than ten things, which is almost all I know about you, and it’s not even right?” Kyle scoffed. “But it’s not important.” 

“Yep,” Craig said. 

“That’s asinine.” Kyle put the car into reverse, driving them home. “Betas really tolerate anything, don’t you?” 

“Wouldn’t know,” Craig shrugged as they pulled onto the road. “Not a Beta.” 

Kyle slammed on the brakes, grateful that the roads were empty at four in the morning. He veered off to the shoulder, dutifully pressing his flashers. “You’re not a Beta,” Kyle stated, mouth in a tight line. 

“Yep.” 

“So you could have been commiserating with me as a fellow Alpha, and instead you wear scent blockers to slack off?” Craig shrugged as Kyle scoffed. “Show me your ID, I don’t believe you. No self respecting Alpha would live with his parents full time at twenty three.” 

Craig patted his pockets down as Kyle flicked on the interior lights. He snatched the ID from his hands, scanning it over. Craig Tucker; male, 5’ 11”, 140 pounds, brown hair, brown eyes, Omega.

“Oh, fuck,” Kyle said slowly, looking over the card again. The provisional O was in red in the background, and he hadn’t even noticed. “You didn’t tell me.” 

“Nope,” Craig sighed. “Didn’t see the point.” 

“You’re so tall,” Kyle said. “Too tall.” 

“You’re basically a midget Alpha, so what do you want. Maybe you should have been the Omega, and I could have been a fucking astronaut.” Craig took the card back, stuffing it into his wallet.

“Midget isn’t what we call them anymore,” Kyle said. He wasn’t sure what the terminology was, but it certainly wasn’t that. “You’re an Omega?” 

“That’s what the ID says.” 

Kyle admitted it’d be strange to fake an Omega ID. He couldn’t be out alone after eleven, had to have a child to drive, and the general blowback from employers. No one wanted to hire an Omega. No colleges took Omegas, not really. 

“So you’re going to pay the penalty?” Kyle asked. 

“I guess,” Craig shrugged. “I work at the grocery store, so I won’t actually pay it, but whatever.” 

Kyle nodded. There were programs to lessen the burden on low income individuals, and even waivers to skip the ten thousand dollar tax every year. 

“That sucks,” Kyle said, gulping. The car was silent for a few minutes, just the soft click of the flashers going on and off in the background. “I, uh, are you single?” 

“You are so fucking stupid,” Craig groaned. 

“I’ve been told,” Kyle smiled, turning to Craig, trying to be as charming as he could. “For the record, I think it sucks more to be an Omega than an Alpha.” 

“You don’t say,” Craig hummed, looking around the car nervously. “I am single, by the way. Kind of hard to find Alphas into tall dudes.” 

“I’m into it,” Kyle blurted out. Judging by the tense silence, it was the wrong thing to say. “I mean, in like an abstract sense, tall boys are nice. Height, is uh, it’s good.” 

“In the abstract, lots of stuff is good,” Craig said with a shrug. “Take me home. My mom worries.”

Kyle nodded, putting the car into drive. They didn’t speak until he stopped outside of Craig’s house in the predawn light. 

“See you Thursday?” Craig asked, hesitating as he grabbed for the car door. 

“Yeah,” Kyle brightened up. “Yeah, we can have night breakfast Thursday. I’ll pick you up.” 

“Cool,” Craig said, slinking off into his house.

Kyle didn't respond.

When Kyle picked him up at eleven on Thursday, Craig had a scent. Kyle swooned, noticing the button up Craig wore. Dark blue, with long sleeves, and pressed to a fault. Craig didn’t seem like a guy who’d use an iron, but Kyle had been wrong. 

“Is this a date?” Kyle asked, looking Craig up and down. He just shrugged. “Cool.”


End file.
